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    The Bucket List
    The Bucket List
    The Bucket List
    Ebook170 pages2 hours

    The Bucket List

    By RJ Scott

    4.5/5

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    About this ebook

    Did he plan for his best friend and his brother to fall in love?

    Schoolteacher Jason has been left a bucket list of places and things that his brother, Andrew, wanted to visit or do, but never had a chance to. Attending a school reunion, going to England, and visiting London and Stonehenge, are all on the list. Jason is determined to cross everything off and, at the same time, work through his grief at his brother's death.

    Closeted soap actor Mark Wesley is shocked when a blast from the past looks him up and devastated when he realizes he will never have a chance to make things right between him and an old friend. When he left town he'd never looked back, and is firmly in the closet, working on a soap opera and living a lie. Losing his friend is a shock to his system and forces him to re-evaluate where his life is going.

    Together Jason and Mark agree to work on Andrew's bucket list, only Jason and Mark grow closer and passion turns to love. Was this Andrew's plan all along? That his little brother and his best friend should fall in love?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherRJ Scott
    Release dateFeb 3, 2015
    ISBN9781785640018
    The Bucket List
    Author

    RJ Scott

    RJ Scott is the author of the best selling Male/Male romances The Christmas Throwaway, The Heart Of Texas and the Sanctuary Series of books.She writes romances between two strong men and always gives them the happy ever after they deserve.

    Read more from Rj Scott

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    4.5/5

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    • 5/5
      This book was both at times, heartbreakingly sad and incredibly romantic. While there are other books like this, it takes a great author to find a balance where neither overpower the other.

      This book had the potential to be full of angst. I'll admit I was a little worried after reading the blurb. However, it wasn't. The "sad" never became overwhelming, and the "light" didn't take away from the poignancy of the whole either.

      Overall it's a beautiful, romantic love story. A love story created out of missed opportunities, sad endings, yet a sneaky matchmaking from beyond death by a beloved brother and best friend. This is why R.J. Scott is one of my favourite authors!

    Book preview

    The Bucket List - RJ Scott

    Chapter One

    Jason Craig cursed under his breath. How many times did he have to say the same thing? Why wasn’t this guard listening to him?

    Excuse me, sir, I’m here to see Mark Wesley.

    The guard ignored Jason for the third time. So far, the built-like-a-brick-outhouse rent-a-cop—Bill, according to his nametag—had let in a delivery of doughnuts, two bouquets of flowers, and the teased-blonde-haired interviewer from the local news station with a microphone in her hand and a cameraman following closely behind her.

    The guard had let each of these in with a smile, and not for the first time, Jason wished he had thought about this in advance and maybe booked an interview—if it was at all possible to actually get an appointment with an actor on a closed set.

    Excuse me. Please, Jason tried again. This time, the guard actually looked down at him from his lofty six and a half foot height and frowned.

    I heard you the first three times, sir, but you need to move on now, he said. At least his tone was civil even if he hadn’t deigned to really talk to Jason.

    I have to get in to see Mark Wesley, Jason replied.

    Join the line, Bill said. He nodded toward the group of thirtysomething women on what looked like some kind of MILF day out. They were all pointing and giggling and shrieking whenever the door opened. Jason sighed. He’d been lumped in with the fans congregating to catch sight of the stars. He wasn’t a fan. Hell, he hadn’t even watched anything Mark was in. According to the IMDB profile for Mark Wesley, he played some kind of rich-boy lothario who bedded and connived and generally filled the bad-boy role in a soap that had been running a very long time.

    Who am I kidding? He might have looked at IMDB recently, but at the end of the day, he actually had somewhat followed Mark’s career for years since Andrew, his brother, would mention things about Mark every now and then. He’d already known the boy who’d left town one night and never come back was now gracing the walls of many a fan’s bedroom.

    Can I make an appointment, then? Jason asked, a little desperate.

    You should write to the studio, sir. Meanwhile, you may want to go stand over there. Some of the actors will be out later to see their adoring fans as per usual. The guard sounded firm at first, but the second part of the sentence was dripping with sarcasm.

    I’m not a fan, Jason protested. He looked over again at the chattering women. A couple were staring at him and pointing. Shuffling his feet and suddenly feeling uncomfortable, he wondered where to start to explain so he could get in. I tried to find out where Mark lived and wanted to track down his family… He stopped. I sound like some kind of creepy stalker fan. Look, can you just maybe give him a note for me?

    Bill looked like he was ten seconds away from calling the cops on Jason. That would be just freaking great. How would he explain an arrest record for stalking to the education board when he was back at school? Finally Bill motioned toward a pile of books and notes and teddies that sat on the chair in his small hut.

    You can add a note to the pile.

    The pile? Jason didn’t have time for a note to be added to any kind of disorganized heap. He had exactly two days to get in, talk to Mark, and get him to agree to number one on his brother’s crazy-assed bucket list. The reunion is Saturday. We need to get home.

    If you could move away, sir, Bill said.

    Part of Jason wanted to take a stand and not move, but rebellion wasn’t really part of his makeup and he walked a few steps back. A voice to his side had Jason twisting on his heel. Excuse me, my friend made me come over. Jason faced one of the women from the group. He forced a mask of civility into place. Never let it be said his mom didn’t raise him right. "She thinks you are that Scottish guy from Days. You know, the one with the stepparents who turned out to be practicing voodoo and who ended up kidnapping the sister with the twins."

    I’m sorry—

    I said you weren’t him and that you were actually a lot better-looking than the Scottish guy, whose name I forget, Niall or Nick or something. Also, up close, you look way younger. She tilted her head and let out a soft tinkling laugh, then placed a hand flat on his jacket. Jason instantly stepped backward. He wasn’t sure what Days was, but it didn’t sound like a good thing, not the way the rest of the group of women were staring at him like he was a side of beef on sale at the market.

    No. I’m not. I just need to… He trailed off as two other women from the group joined the first, all three laughing and giggling and touching him. They’re touching me. Looking the guard directly in the eye, he hoped he telegraphed the sheer naked fear inside. Bill wouldn’t even glance at him, but there was a definite smirk on his round face.

    "You could be a soap star, though," Woman One simpered.

    Are you here auditioning? Woman Two asked. She pressed scarlet-tipped fingers into his biceps and leaned into him. Niiiice…

    No, I’m n-not an, uhm, actor. I’m here to visit— He took another step back when the remainder of the group joined the first three. Fifteen to one was not fair. It was only then, when he was surrounded, that the guard chose to intervene.

    Ten minutes, ladies, Bill said. Then the cast are coming out for photos.

    The group melted away from Jason like butter from a knife, and there were a lot of cackling laughs as they grouped around the narrow entrance and the gated hut the guard used. Resolving to get this sorted out, Jason excused himself as he passed by each woman and finally made his way through the heavily perfumed crowd and back to the guard.

    Please can you just tell him that Andrew Craig’s brother is here? he called over the raised voices and chattering.

    Andrew Craig?

    Yes. Andrew Craig. I’m Jason, his little brother.

    Seeming to take some kind of pity on Jason, Bill scribbled the name in a notebook. Jason wasn’t sure what changed; maybe only barely making it out alive from a pack of rabid housewives was a badge of honor that Bill wanted to reward. Jason made his way back to the wall and away from the group. He didn’t have to wait long. The door opened and people stepped out. Who had come out, Jason couldn’t see over the small sea of women in heels, but there was a lot of excitement.

    He went on tiptoes, but he couldn’t see Mark, no one with dark hair, just two women and a blond man. Inspiration hit—maybe he could ask one of them to tell Mark he was here. He tried his best to make his way through, but the women had formed an impenetrable wall and he was too polite to shove. By the time Jason made it to the front, the door had shut and anyone from the show had gone.

    Jason deflated, then decided he would wait for as long as it took for Mark to come see him. What he was waiting for, he wasn’t sure. Was it to have the guard come get him? Had Bill even given the note to Mark? Was the actor aware he was here? When the women walked away, all with huge grins and two exchanging oohs and aahs of having had their breasts signed by the blond Adonis, Jason was left standing alone with only Bill for company. He looked up at the guard expectantly.

    I sent in the name, Bill said simply.

    And?

    And nothing. Mark’s people have the note.

    Mark’s people? They wouldn’t know the name Andrew Craig. What was the point in giving it to them? The name should be given to Mark. It had been so many years, but surely Mark would recall Andrew. They won’t know who Andrew is. Look, please. I need to see him. Can I write a longer note? To explain?

    Like I said, they have your name.

    Jason contemplated his next move. What if he told Bill why he was standing here? He’d already said he’d tried to find out where Mark lived and placed himself squarely in scary stalker territory. Would it help if he told Bill about Andrew dying? Would that get him any compassion points to get through the door marked Private? Grief washed over him, and the memory of his brother’s voice filled his head.

    First thing, little brother. And this is the important one. Find Mark Wesley and make him see you. Explain to him. Tell him the keeper of his secrets has died. He’ll know exactly what you mean. And for fuck’s sake, get him to the reunion.

    My brother died, Jason said. Bill looked at him, and for a second, compassion softened his hard features.

    I’m sorry, he said.

    Mark was his friend… I have to…

    The guard shook his head. He’d probably heard all kinds of reasons as to why people needed to get inside the closed set. Seemed like bereavement wasn’t going to swing it.

    Mark Wesley slumped back on the closed toilet seat, and the last remaining ounce of energy left him in a noisy sigh. Two minutes’ peace. That’s all I want. But that wasn’t happening.

    Mark blamed Evan. His agent had told him how good this fly-on-the-wall documentary would be. Emma Watkins is at the top of her game at the moment, she’ll give you good exposure.

    What Mark hadn’t realized when he’d signed up for it was that it meant being constantly followed around by her and her cameraman. Which in turn meant no time to himself. Including bathroom time. They’d followed him for two weeks solid already. Consigned to digital film was hours of him acting, learning lines, going for dinner, and sleeping. They also asked far too many questions that slid close to things he had agreed with his agent wouldn’t become public.

    Mr. Wesley?

    Jeez. Did she never give up? She was inside the men’s bathroom and outside his stall door. Quickly, he glanced up, expecting to see the cameraman leaning over the top of the stall next to him. He could see the headlines now: Soap Actor Takes Crap, full frontal pics page five. Didn’t he even get a minute’s peace in the men’s room?

    I’ll be out in a minute, Emma, he said. He was aiming for patience, but instead there was loosely restrained irritability.

    But—

    Just give a guy a few minutes to himself, Mark snapped. He heard the noise of her heels on the tiled floor, some muffled talking between her and the camera guy, and the sound of the closing door. One more hour, that was all he had to handle. Then she was gone to edit whatever she could from his boring life. Cautiously he opened the stall door and checked by the sinks. They really had left. He wouldn’t put it past Emma to have faked leaving just so she got a shot of him doing up his fly.

    Crossing to the sink, he washed his hands and checked himself in the mirror. His skin had the orange tint of makeup, and in this light he looked like he had a badly applied fake tan. Getting in the makeup chair every day was not one of the perks of the job. He loved his work, and getting paid well for what was essentially a nine-to-five job was a definite plus in his eyes. Didn’t mean he enjoyed his privacy being disregarded, though. The door opened and rounded on the interloper with temper on his tongue, only relaxing when he saw it was his agent, Evan Rogers.

    If you don’t get that woman out of my face—

    Mark, I get that you’re pissed—

    She followed me into the goddamned bathroom, Evan.

    I’m just as upset as you are—

    Bullshit, Evan. She hasn’t followed you to film you taking a crap.

    She filmed you doing that?

    No, fuck, I wasn’t… I was just hiding…

    I get it’s been intrusive—

    You don’t know. He and Evan had even done some playacting for the documentary, pretend business meetings discussing film options. Make-believe film options. But still, a couple of meetings was nothing like the kind of intense focus that had been on Mark.

    Mark? You okay? Evan looked concerned. He made sure the main door was completely shut and leaned against it. Talk to me.

    Mark sighed and rested

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